


Death Becomes Her

by Crysania



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 20:17:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4113573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crysania/pseuds/Crysania
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zelena escapes the asylum. Rumplestiltskin and Robin Hood go on a hunt. Be well aware of the warnings. Here there is death, fairly graphic violence, and mentions of rape/sexual abuse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Death Becomes Her

He comes in the middle of the night.

“She’s free.” The words are said on a hiss, sharp and pointed. Then… “I know what she did to you.”

The other man pulls himself upward, crawling to the edge of his tent. “She?”

“Yes,” he says. There aren’t any more words that need to be said. They both know who he’s referring to. They both know what she’s done and why she cannot walk free.

He knew the asylum was a bad place to put her. It wasn’t safe enough. Anyone could walk in, steal someone away, _set her free_. He had warned them. Multiple times. But did they listen to him? Did they _ever_ listen to him?

Of course not.

He was the Dark One. Forever and always in their minds. He might be free of the entity. It might reside in someone else now. But he was _still_ the Dark One to them.

So they turned up their noses at his advice, turned their backs on him, and walked off. Allowing _her_ to wallow in an asylum.

He had known it was only a matter of time.

The other man finally emerges from the tent and even in the darkness he can see his mouth is set in a grim line, his eyes narrowed. He has a quiver of arrows slung over his back and holds his bow with an easy grace many would admire. He is at home in this forest as no one else is. And he knows what is at stake here like no one else in their trapped little town does.

Not even Belle knows.

Or Regina.

Or the Charmings or their precious little daughter, the _real_ Dark One.

No one but he and this other man. They have been through it. Caged. Tortured. Abused. _Raped_. They share a common bond through their misery. It twists the soul and adds shades of darkness where once the light was.

Their abuser walks free.

And they walk in darkness. Knowing she is there. Knowing what she has done and what she _could_ do.

There is no longer a dagger to control him.

And the other man knows she was masquerading as his wife.

But there are still ways. There will always be ways.

“Do we have to?” the other man asks and there’s just a small bit of apprehension in his voice. He doesn’t want to. He counts himself amongst the heroes. But this is different. This is not a matter of heroes or villains. This is a matter of life and safety.

“Of course,” he says and manages to keep his voice modulated. He doesn’t need to show fear. He _can’t_ show fear. If he does, they’ll realize he’s the same coward he always was, the lowly spinner. He has magic still, but it’s weak, less bite. He’s not the same.

Belle tells him this all the time. He knows it should be a good thing. He’s no longer the Dark One. His heart is pure. And he’s tainting it all over again.

_Heroes don’t kill_.

And yet they rip out hearts and tear babies from their mothers. They do what is necessary to protect their loved ones, to protect themselves, _to_ _keep out the darkness_. Rumplestiltskin and his companion have to as well. They may slink through the dark, may act on the offense and not the defense, but it makes them no less heroes.

_Heroes_ do _kill_. It’s almost a mantra to him now. Heroes kill the villains. _She_ is the villain. This makes them heroes of the darkest kind.

_Anti-heroes_ , Belle would tell him.

The other man finally sighs. “Then let’s get this over with so we can go on with our lives.”

“Yes,” he responds with and they move off together, he with his magic, Robin with his bow.

It’s not hard to track her. She’s without magic, the cuff still on her wrist. He knows from experience that she will be unable to remove it, though she will try her damnedest over and over again. He remembers that all too well, those last moments of desperation before death took him, of facing down what he thought would be his worst demon.

He was wrong.

He faces it now. Again. Far too many times. He faced that demon when she had him controlled, caged, when she murdered his son and tried to have him murder his true love. He faced it when he killed it in the jail cell. And again in the hospital when he discovered it was _still alive_. And he’ll face it again.

For the last time.

If he has anything to say about it. He will _make sure_ this time that this is done, that she is gone and dead and can no longer torment them. It is the only way. The only way to stop the nightmares. He knows Robin has them too, has been wandering the woods late at night when he hears him scream. Robin doesn’t know he’s been there, that he’s heard his pain, that it pierced his newly lightened heart.

They have much in common.

None of it good.

He follows the other man through the woods. He may be the former Dark One but no one knows these woods like the thief. He trusts him to track their prey, to be able to see the telltale signs of her run from the asylum. She was set free. He knows this much. But he knows not by who or why.

But _she_ also knows that her time is limited. If she can get beyond the borders of Storybrooke, she has a chance. Within its magical walls, she's a dead woman walking. She knows he'll kill her. But she doesn't know he won't work alone this time. That this time she has wronged not only him but Robin and Regina and everyone else they love.

"Right," Robin says and veers away. He follows. Silent. The wraith-like being shadowing the man who is honorable and good. He is neither, certainly. This time no more so than other times.

_But it has to be done_.

Of that, there is no doubt.

Robin moves swiftly and he is amazed at his near-silence in the forest. He directs him with a raised arm and a glance. He needs nothing else. Where Robin Hood goes, Rumplestiltskin will follow. He knows the man's goal is the same as his. For once, they are perfectly aligned. Once enemies, once running on hatred and mistrust, now united by their common goal.

Oh, there's still mistrust.

There's probably still hate.

But their hatred of _her_ is stronger than their hatred of each other. And so this alliance has formed and will remain until their goal is accomplished. They'll go their separate ways _after_.

After she's been defeated.

After she's dead.

When they can breathe again. When the very air isn't choked out of their lungs with hate and fear and _abject terror_.

Robin stops suddenly and Rumplestiltskin falls in line behind him. He's in tune with him in a way he hasn't been with anyone in a long time. Tuned into every tiny movement. He has to be.

"There," Robin says, the word a mere whisper. But it's enough. He sees her, weaving between the trees. There's a strange grace to her movements, to the way she races through the forest, rushing headlong toward…something.

She doesn't know what the woods have in store for her. Like the unwitting person first into the house in a horror movie, she is racing headlong toward a destiny she knows nothing of. That she can’t know anything of. If she knew, she’d hide. If she knew, she’d go back to the asylum. At least she has her life there. Not much else, but a life is a life.

Not that he would choose to remain caged in such a way. Death is a better option.

There’s a flash of something up ahead and Robin stops, nocks his bow. He knows he’s trained on her. He doesn’t have _the_ bow, the one that always finds his mark, but he also knows that Robin is a fine archer and he’ll stop her come hell or high water.

But then he hesitates.

“The baby?” Robin asks and he sounds lost. It’s his baby too.

Rumplestiltskin shakes his head. “There is no baby.”

“What?” Robin’s voice is just a little too loud in the quiet of the forest and Rumplestiltskin makes a sweeping motion with one hand.

He steps closer. This only needs to be said once. “There is no baby.” Robin starts to speak but he holds up his hand. “There never was. It’s a part of the glamor spell.”

“But we…”

“Don’t go there.” He doesn’t need to hear it. He escapes from that much at least, but he still can feel her hands on him, brushing his hair back, ghosting across his shoulders, running down his chest. He’s not sure he’ll _ever_ be free of those feelings and sometimes, in the middle of the night, he flinches away even from Belle’s touch. Before he comes back to himself. Before he remembers who it is that’s touching him. Zelena is always there, lurking in the dark corners of his mind, like a snake ready to strike at any moment. “There is no baby,” he repeats. He’s not one for physical touch very often but he makes an exception here, reaching out to place a hand on Robin’s arm. “Trust me.”

He’s not known for being trustworthy. He’s the Dark One. Or was, not that long ago. But Robin finally nods. He’ll believe him. He has to. Because otherwise his rapist walks free. Otherwise he watches her make nice with the woman he loves and feels his heart sink into his stomach and always feels on edge and slightly nauseous.

He knows.

He knows all too well.

Robin steps forward then, bow at the ready. There’s another flash. A little closer to them. She doesn’t know which way she’s going, only that she’s running, racing away from her fate.

But fate stops for no one.

Robin releases the arrow and it flies straight and true, slicing clean through Zelena’s arm and pinning her to the nearest tree. She’s trapped. Caged in a way. Much like they had been. Trapped and controlled. She lets out a strangled shout as she’s suddenly drawn up short with the pain.

“Well, well, look what we’ve caught here.” Rumplestiltskin emerges from the shadows. “It seems a little rabbit has escape from her cage.”

Zelena draws herself up at his words. “I should have known…”

“That I would track you down? Oh no…” He offers a bit of dark laughter with those words. “I had help, dearie.” He moves a hand backward slightly, waving Robin forward.

When he steps into the light of the clearing, he finally sees _fear_ in Zelena’s eyes. She expects this of him. But she doesn’t expect that one of the so-called heroes would be there in the dark with him, shouldering this burden with him.

Rumplestiltskin just smiles. He has her where he wants her. Magicless, trapped, at his mercy. He remembers a time not that long ago that she was the same. Holed up in a jail while he had all the power. He killed her then, only to find out she was still alive.

He won’t make that same mistake again. His sanity is not the only thing on the line this time. He is not alone in this.

“You see,” Rumplestiltskin goes on with. Conversational. Like this is just another day and not the day he ends her for good. “I made a mistake last time. I didn’t _double check_. I didn’t make sure. I was too confident.” He sneers the last at her.

“My baby…” she starts to say. A pathetic plea for the life of a child that does not exist.

“Is fake. Regina may have fallen for such a tactic, dearie, but I won’t. I know you better than that. And my _magic_ is stronger than that.” She shakes her head. Once. Twice. She’s frantic now, trying to pull away from the tree.

But the arrow holds fast.

And she can do little more than watch Rumplestiltskin as he approaches, turn wide eyes on Robin as he stands back and lets him do the dirty work. He won’t sully his hands, not this way at least. He’d track her and trap her, but ending her? That is all down to Rumplestiltskin.

It seems that killing Zelena is his lot in his life now. He wonders, sometimes, if he has to relive it over and over again. The plunge of the dagger, the last breath. This time he will make sure she is well and truly gone, that her body remains and is a shell, nothing left inside. He won’t allow her to drift to dust, to know that her essence still somehow lives, can still come back to haunt him.

He needs her gone.

And he’s not the only one.

He looks to Robin for a moment and there are lines around his mouth that he’s not seen before, a tightness about the eyes that is new. He’s watching Rumplestiltskin, not Zelena, and he realizes that neither of them want to face her. They want her gone.

Robin nods.

Just once, almost imperceptible.

But he knows what it means and he moves away from the man, leaving him to stand behind as he does what he does…well, if not best, at least _well_.

“You won’t kill me,” Zelena says. False confidence. He remembers her confidence before, the last time. It wasn’t false then. She truly believed it. But this time she doesn’t. She’s bluffing. Trying to bide for some time. Trying to figure out some way to convince him to not go forward with his plan.

“Oh I will, dearie, and with great relish.” He wants to ask her _why_. Why did she cage him? Why did she torture him? Why did she rape Robin and claim to carry his baby? But he knows why. And he doesn’t need her reasons, however horrible they might be.

He needs nothing from her.

Nothing except her death.

Without another word he plunges his hand into her chest, wraps his fingers tight around her heart. He almost wants to squeeze it right there, still inside her body, wants to _feel_ the life drain from her as he watches her eyes go dark and her face go slack. He wants it _so bad_ he can taste it. But he doesn’t. He rips her heart from her chest and watches, almost too calmly really, as she takes a deep breath and leans hard against the tree.

Her eyes are wild now as she scans the forest around them.

She hopes for a savior.

Robin steps up and for a moment, just a moment, he fears he might go back on this.

But he doesn’t.

He looks from Zelena to the heart that lay pulsing in Rumplestiltskin’s hand, mottled black and red, all her dark deeds laid bare in front of them.

“Please…” Zelena starts to say. Pitiful. She’ll beg for her life while killing anyone who gets in her way, while caging and torturing and abusing and _raping_ those she wishes to use to gain her advantage. She deserves no mercy.

Robin takes a deep breath and looks away from her, meets Rumplestiltskin’s eyes. “Do it,” he says. The words are quiet, grim. He still feels remorse, Rumplestiltskin realizes. It’s what makes him one of the good guys, one of the heroes.

Rumplestiltskin feels no such remorse.

His hand closes around the heart and Zelena doubles over in pain. She howls. _Nooooo_ …but he doesn’t stop. His fingers tighten more until there’s almost a popping sound and the heart turns to dust. It’s a strange thing, that moment when everything changes, when a living pulsing thing is reduced to dust and the person it’s attached to gives one final painful gasp before their life is snuffed out.

And then it’s over.

Zelena slumps half to the ground, one arm still pinning her to the tree, a grotesque and broken scarecrow. The skin there stretches and if he were a different man he could well imagine himself retching into the bushes at the sight. But he’s Rumplestiltskin. And so he simply takes a deep breath and shakes the dust, all that’s left of a once-beating heart, from his fingers.

He can hear Robin shift his feet behind him. “Is she…” he starts to say, but the words won’t come. Surely he’s killed before. He’s a thief after all. He may consider himself honorable but even those who are honorable kill when they must.

Rumplestiltskin steps forward, kneels at her side. He brushes her long hair away from her neck and there’s a part of him that wants to reach out and snap it. So delicate. So easy to twist and kill. But instead he simply puts his hand to her pulse point.

There’s nothing there.

He holds his hand in front of her nose.

Still nothing.

“Yes,” he finally says and stands, pulling the arrow out of the tree. Zelena finishes her final descent to the ground, her body broken, her spirit gone. She’s nothing now. As she should be.

He turns and holds the arrow out toward Robin. The other man shakes his head. “I want no part of that,” he says as he turns away.

Rumplestiltskin tosses the arrow at the ground in front of Zelena and Robin just nods.

Almost as one they turn away from the small bit of destruction they have wrought. “They’re going to know,” Rumplestiltskin says quietly. It’s a chance for an out, a chance for Robin to remove the arrow and allow the blame to lay at Rumplestiltskin’s feet, a way for him to save face. Everyone will believe the former Dark One was capable of doing it alone.

Robin stops and looks back at where Zelena is crumpled. His face is blank for a moment but then Rumplestiltskin sees the rage, the anguish. “I don’t _care_.”

It’s really come to that point. He meets Robin’s eyes, his dark with hate and anger and _fear_ , Robin’s grim and trying so very hard to hide that he shares that same fear. They have been wronged. But more than that, they’ve had part of their very _selves_ ripped away by the woman they have left dead that day. They are not the same. They may never _be_ the same, no matter how hard they try to return to that sense of normalcy they once had.

“I should have killed her properly the first time,” Rumplestiltskin says. “I should have made _damned sure_ she was dead.”

Robin reaches out a hand, hesitates, then finally puts his hand on Rumplestiltskin’s shoulder. He no doubt knows it’s a dangerous move to make, touching the former Dark One. But he does it anyway and while Rumplestiltskin shudders beneath the touch, he doesn’t move away or turn the man into a snail. They’re in this together, after all.

“It’s not your fault,” Robin finally manages to say. “What she did to me. _It’s not your fault_.”

Rumplestiltskin nods and Robin releases him.

The sun starts to rise as they make their way back through the forest, picking their way carefully through the brush and branches. They walk slowly by silent agreement. They’re not quite ready to face the new day. They’re not quite ready to face whatever Storybrooke has in store for them after this careful late-night hunt.

They part ways as they near Robin's camp, Rumplestiltskin fading into the shadows of the ever-lightening forest. There is no grand gesture, no words spoken. They simply head in different directions with one last knowing look. There are things Rumplestiltskin has to do, someone he needs to talk to, to explain everything to.

He had made a promise, what feels like ages ago now, to someone. And he needs to see that through to the end. With a heart that is both lighter and heavy at the same time, Rumplestiltskin turns his feet toward the cemetery.


End file.
